


In orbit

by mkhhhx



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Busking, Coming of Age, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hyuck's parents being assholes, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mkhhhx/pseuds/mkhhhx
Summary: “Do you ever want to run away from everything?” Donghyuck asks, straw between his lips and Mark’s eyes set on them.“I would never do it alone,” Mark says, Donghyuck’s breath caught in his throat, “but I would do it”.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 10
Kudos: 66





	In orbit

A blond boy busking at the corner of a busy street, calloused fingers soft on his guitar strings and overworn boots tapping rhythmically on the pavement. He marks the sole hour Donghyuck can soothe his raging thoughts, right there, lost in the crowd, swaying gently along the cords of love songs.

The boy has a pretty face and an even prettier voice and Donghyuck doesn’t know much about guitar playing, but he knows more instinctively than anything, that the boy is really good at that too just because he pours his soul into every single song.

He first meets him under rainy weather, Donghyuck getting back from his part-time on heavy feet, dark-circles hidden under his hood and mood ruined after hours of restocking shelves and getting shouted at by older coworkers. He can hear the busker before he sees him when he turns around at some corner, the guitar along the steady voice, the boy sheltered under a store’s canopy. He slows, meeting the boy’s eyes for a brief moment and then picks up his pace again, a warm shower and his bed the only things on his mind.

And then he keeps seeing the boy. On cold days without rain, when it’s hailing, when it’s snowing and the boy is singing Christmas songs to a small crowd. Donghyuck’s steps slow down until one day they eventually stop altogether, right at the back of the crowd that’s getting bigger the warmer the weather gets. It happens time after time until it’s a daily occurrence. Sometimes he just stands there, listening to song after song. On the good days he can spare the stray coins from his pockets. On the bad ones he hopes one more person in the crowd can widen the smile on the boy’s face, even if just a little.

The boy sometimes talks between songs, thanks people for stopping by, gets all shy when he notices someone is recording him. Donghyuck doesn’t know much about him, only that his name is Mark, that he has a somewhat foreign endearing accent and the prettiest sparkly eyes Donghyuck has ever seen.

And in the midst of the shitshow that is Donghyuck’s life Mark becomes a comforting constant presence, even if they are practically strangers, even if they have never exchanged a single word. Mark exists in Donghyuck’s world, and that’s more than enough, the little time frame Donghyuck spends listening to him soon becoming his very favorite part of the day.

It’s easy to start noticing things after a while. Mark’s favorite songs, the ones he plays time after time every few weeks. His favorite or just most comfortable pieces of clothing. The little mole adoring his face, the bracelets on his wrists under his sleeves, the tiny fleck of ink starting above his collarbone and trailing down. Every time Donghyuck looks he finds out something new about the boy, insignificant but precious all the same.

He goes through the bad days knowing he’ll listen to Mark’s singing when he gets off work, or the next day. Sometimes when he’s home trying to muffle the shouting and the television and the footsteps his fingers hover over his keyboard, itching to search for Mark on the internet, knowing he’s gonna find something but backing out every single time, as if a simple search will shatter down the magic of his ordeal.

He finds himself dreading home, wishing time would stop right there, with Mark singing and Donghyuck swaying with the crowd. No assignments to write in the middle of the night, no siblings to take care of, not having to return to a job he hates. He stays until Mark finishes his last song and the crowd dissipates, Donghyuck the last one to leave.

He thinks about talking to Mark without much reason or motive, just to tell him how appreciated he is because he’s sure his limited finances can’t convey it. Yet, he keeps leaving, time after time until Mark is eventually the one to talk to him first.

“Everything alright?” Mark’s speaking voice is a little rougher than his singing one, but the undertone is gentle all the same. Donghyuck freezes for a moment, realizes he had dozed off, music and crowd both long gone, Mark’s guitar in its case and secured on his back.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck musters a smile, “just tired.”

Mark smiles back and Donghyuck has a moment to study him from a little closer. His hollow cheeks and his smile lines, the stubble on his chin, his bitten nails. He looks so very human.

“Thank you for being here every time,” Mark says, because of course he has noticed, “it means a lot.”

“I get off work around that time,” Donghyuck says, as if he has to justify himself being there, on that specific piece of pavement, “you are really good.”

“Thank you,” Mark gives a wider smile, but somehow more timid, shy. “I’ll see you soon, then.”

“See you soon,” Donghyuck agrees, already looking forward to it.

He almost snaps and breaks. At work when nothing he does is ever right and when the old register machine won’t open and when his muscles feel like he’s been restocking for three days straight and yet there’s even more. At class when he doesn’t understand the lecture and knows he’ll have to spend extra time studying in the middle of the night or put his pride aside and ask one of his classmates for help. At home when his younger sister stomps up and down the wooden stairs when he doesn’t give her attention and when his parents are fighting for the third time that week and when his older sister screams at him to go to the store cause their fridge is empty. But Mark is still there, gentle, soothing Mark, with his guitar and his soft eyes.

They talk again a few times, exchange little pleasantries, Donghyuck asking the name of this or that song, getting anxious and commenting on the weather. Mark seems to enjoy the little bit of company, so talking after his busking becomes a new constant in Donghyuck’s life.

“You know, I’m trying to save up for college,” Mark says, picking the change of the day from his hat and dumping the coins in a ratty wallet, “but college is so much more expensive than I though.”

He’s smiling but Donghyuck knows what his expression holds, that kind of bone-deep desperation when you keep working towards your dreams and they only seem to be getting further away.

“I’m studying accounting,” Donghyuck blurts out, just to fill the silence, “I hate it”. It’s the first time he openly admits it. People know, of course they know, but he never had the guts to say it like that, almost casually.

“Why are you doing it then?” Mark’s guitar is tucked in its case and their time is running out. Donghyuck feels weirdly bold.

“It was either that or my parents kicking me out.” The depressing truth laid out there for Mark to take it.

“Is it worth it?” Mark’s voice is steady and the pitying look Donghyuck expects never comes. The answer must be obvious, even to Mark who knows less than the bare minimum about Donghyuck.

“No, no it isn’t.”

Donghyuck isn’t quite sure if things are getting easier or if he’s just getting used to living that way, constantly exhausted and on edge. He remembers when he was younger, his parents still somewhat civil with each other. He remembers his father picking him up and telling him “Don’t you know Hyuckie, don’t you know you’re a little star?”. Donghyuck clings to that memory, the semblance of happy family life he used to spend night after night praying to have again. But he gave up and now, with a mop in his hand and some customer’s baby crying a couple isles away he’s positive he’s nothing like a star. He’s more like a little planet, existing but unimportant, floating around space.

The first time Mark offers to treat Donghyuck to boba he’s wearing a white t-shirt and Donghyuck sees all of his colorful bracelets for the first time. He says no, knowing he smells like chlorine and dust and there’s a pile of chores waiting for him at home. The second time he doesn’t remember what Mark is wearing, only that the tiny “yeah, let’s go” brings him enough happiness to balance out the scolding he’ll have to go through later.

After that first ‘yes’, it’s a slippery slope. Donghyuck slowly learns the whole menu at Mark’s favorite boba place. He learns the paths at the park close to the corner Mark busks. He learns the different ways Mark laughs and how his nose scrunches, arms flailing after one of Donghyuck’s jokes. Being friends with Mark comes easily and it soon becomes the biggest comfort Donghyuck could ever ask for.

He remembers when he was younger, when his personality wasn’t watered down. When he was loud and touchy and genuinely happy. He feels like Mark can bring that Donghyuck out again. And that Donghyuck sometimes dozes off in class, thinking about Mark singing Ed Sheeran. That Donghyuck talks back to his boss when it gets too much and that Donghyuck slams his door open and tells everyone to shut up so he can study. His parents start fights with him and he finishes them. His coworkers leave him to his own devices. His classmates stop talking behind his back. And then, as if to counter all his rough edges Mark becomes more gentle by the day.

“It’s not much,” Mark unlocks the door to a tiny apartment, tiny but so cozy and quiet, “my grandma used to live here”.

Outside it’s pouring and their usual boba place was full, and when Mark suggested crashing in his apartment Donghyuck felt himself vibrating with excitement. He leaves his backpack behind the door and eyes the space, the scattered books, the old laptop on a coffee table, the posters on the walls and the messy kitchen. A piece for the puzzle that is Mark and Donghyuck has set his mind on completing.

They lay on opposite ends of the couch and Donghyuck watches Mark’s fingers playing with the seams of the pillows. He’s always restless when he isn’t playing the guitar and Donghyuck wonders, would he calm down if they held hands instead?

The days pass, some slowly, others fast, blending into each other. Donghyuck holds Mark’s hand one time, walking around the park with the sun setting behind them. He sings with Mark playing the guitar, lying on Mark’s twin bed. Their first kiss tastes like strawberry boba and the second like the stale biscuits they find in Mark’s cupboards. Donghyuck keeps singing and Mark learns new songs for him. They harmonize like they’ve already mastered it in some previous life and they make out like they won’t wake up to see another day.

“Do you ever want to run away from everything?” Donghyuck asks, straw between his lips and Mark’s eyes set on them.

“I would never do it alone,” Mark says, Donghyuck’s breath caught in his throat, “but I would do it”.

Donghyuck remembers his younger self, singing at the church, singing at the school choir, singing in the shower. He remembers the happiness that used to come in waves when he managed to hit the notes just right and when he received compliments. He also remembers his parents shutting him down when he begged for vocal lessons and how he started losing his passion between homework and housework. He knows it was half justified, he knows his younger siblings were a priority, but still, the longer he’s stretched thin between work and classes, the angrier he gets.

“Can I sing with you sometime?” He asks Mark. It’s dark in the room, Mark’s bedroom. Donghyuck’s phone lit up with calls from home until he turned it completely off. He wants to spend the night with Mark, cling on each other and talk music and breathe in each other’s space and humor about running away.

“Of course” Mark leans in to kiss his forehead, then his nose, his cheek, “I was thinking about asking you”.

It takes Donghyuck two weeks to quit his job, throw his little nametag in front of his manager and step all over it. Another three weeks until he has more of his clothes at Mark’s place than his own.

Singing together doesn’t make that much of a financial difference, but it does bring a bit more money in. All of it goes to midnight ramen runs and shared ice cream cups. It goes to buy a little fan for Mark’s apartment and beads and thread for Donghyuck to make matching bracelets for them.

They don’t talk about what they have because Donghyuck knows that big flashy words or declarations of love might scare Mark. Life is simpler like this. They wake up and make breakfast together. Kiss a little against the counter and spend the morning listening to music, making their own, rehearsing. They head to the usual corner and busk until the sun goes down. They take long walks and Mark shows him how to play the guitar. They fall back into the bed still in the day’s clothes, slowly peeling them off each other.

Donghyuck meets Mark’s parents but Mark doesn’t meet his, visits back home sacred. Mark is quiet and Donghyuck finds peace when they are together, his fits of loud laugher and rushed talking not rare, but genuine and overflowing with love.

The summer is almost over when Donghyuck makes up his mind. “I won’t sign up for classes” he tells Mark and makes him hold his hand when he messages his parents about it. They look for jobs and work odd ones to make ends meet. Donghyuck mops more floors and tries some bartending. Mark is a horrible waiter but does relatively well at gardening. Along with the few hours of busking they squeeze here and there it’s good. Sometimes they can afford to eat out at an actual restaurant and call it a date. Other times Mark comes home with sunflowers and kisses Donghyuck like missing him while at work was the most unbearable feeling in the world.

“Do you know,” Donghyuck brushes his lips along Mark’s bare shoulders, “do you know much in love I am?”

Mark seems to shut down, just for a second before the biggest smile lights up his whole face. He doesn’t say it back, he doesn’t say anything at all but Donghyuck knows. He knows because Mark writes songs for him. He knows because Mark’s hands stop shaking when Donghyuck holds them. He knows because Mark never lets him go from his hold in the middle of the night.

“We both need some change,” Mark says, entering the bedroom sometime in the middle of the night. It’s one of the nights he kept working on music long after Donghyuck couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore.

“Mark?” Donghyuck opens his eyes slowly, looking at Mark’s silhouette illuminated by the low light coming from the living room.

“I’ll never save up enough for college,” Mark says, “but I have just enough for a second hand car.”

“A car?” Donghyuck sits up on the bed, mattress dipping under Mark’s weight.

“Just enough for a car and renting a cheap apartment at some other city,” Mark nods, taking Donghyuck’s hand into his own, “I told you I wouldn’t do it by myself but-“

“Yeah?” Donghyuck squishes Mark’s fingers, smiles even if Mark can’t see it in the dark.

“Yeah,” Mark says and Donghyuck knows he’s smiling back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> You can find me [here](https://twitter.com/kuns_dimples)!


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